All winter, he had asked to have the window opened. March found him pale, nothing but skin and bones, sitting on the couch in the living room to watch the geraniums bloom on the balcony. Mona waited. That morning, she also called a company. The candles had consumed the oxygen in the room, and Geo, without strength, would open his eyes intermittently and look toward the window. He no longer spoke. Okay, I'll open it, Mona whispered to him. She felt a claw tightening around her neck and thought it must be death. She stepped out on the balcony and took a breath of air. Geo took his last breath.
Gabriel Rusu
When the horizons kiss the dawn, life before the sun becomes a splendor. The shepherd Ionică silently watches his corner of Heaven, a tribute to the peace around him. His gaze catches a vulture whose wings glide over the snowy mountain. There, the snow never melts. The first rays envelop it in sparkle, making it shine brighter than jewels encrusted on the crowns of kings. The shepherd's sheep are still dozing off. I wonder what my horned ones are dreaming? Surely, they too dream, just like us. Do they long for home?
Ana Ludușan
Don't move, don't swallow, or you'll mess up the machine, the technician snaps at me as she rolls me deeper into the MRI tube, a sealed coffin, and points the machine gun at me. My bones disintegrate, needles pierce my lungs, my brain liquefies. I desperately search for something that will save me. I gallop on my childhood Lipizzaner and bury with all my strength the sound of the machine gun and the thought that the most beautiful Lipizzaner mare on Earth has turned into Sibiu salami.
(Translated by Miruna Baicu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.